Chapter 23-Pilot's Wings and Lindbergh

Much to Hogan's relief, he was released from the infirmary by the end of the week after being warned by Wilson to take it easy for another week or he might have a problem. The medic also promised to check on him later. Mumbling under his breath, Hogan didn't agree or disagree to take it easy, but his core unit promised they would keep an eye on their commander and make sure he got some rest. Knowing the Colonel was in good hands, Wilson left the barracks. Hogan sat down at the table holding his coffee cup which LeBeau filled with hot coffee.

"You really should be lying down, mon Colonel," said a concerned LeBeau.

Hogan gave LeBeau a look as he drank his coffee. "Don't you start. I had enough of Wilson with his imitation of a mother hen." Seeing the Frenchman's deflated expression, Hogan's face softened and he allowed a small smile to appear. "But thank you for being concerned. But I'm fine; couldn't be better." LeBeau's face brightened just a bit.

Hogan waited a few minutes while drinking his coffee. He sighed wearily as he held the cup between his hands on the table top; he seemed to be waiting for somebody to say something. When no words were forthcoming, he glanced around at his team. "Okay, which of you is going to tell me whatever it is that's being kept from me and has been while I was incapacitated?"

The men all turned to Kinch who sighed wearily. Looking at the others, Hogan then turned to his second-in-command. "Well, Kinch, it seems as if you've been elected to explain things."

Kinch scratched his forehead and chuckled. "I guess so. A day or two ago we received a radio call from Gustav. Seems a body was found a couple of miles outside of town at the old abandoned shed. He said there's no doubt it's Rochet. Despite the damage to the face from an apparent beating, and the bullet to the head, he recognized the knife injury to the arm."

Hogan didn't comment as he digested this information. "What else?" he finally asked.

Kinch glanced momentarily at the others as he inhaled and exhaled. "We suspect we may have a traitor in the barracks, Colonel."

Hogan didn't say anything. He just took another drink of coffee. "I see. And on what basis was that assumption made?" He asked looking at the radioman.

"Well sir, after we found you lying in the compound that night and got you to the infirmary, we began to wonder how did Guthrie know you were coming to his quarters to begin with? I mean, it seemed like he knew you were coming and set a trap for you and you almost died as a result."

"Did you check the barracks for listening devices?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied. "And your quarters as well. There was nothing. So it seemed to us that leaves only one possibility sir, and that is that somebody's feedin' that ruddy bastard information on you."

"And if we had to discuss anything we decided we would use your quarters or the tunnel. And if we had to use your quarters we would check it for listening devices every time to be sure it wasn't bugged."

"Any luck so far?" Hogan asked.

LeBeau shook his head. "Non, Colonel. We have no idea who. All we know is that we were outside when we discussed you going to lure him out of his quarters that night so Kinch and Newkirk could plant the bug."

Hogan, finishing his coffee, got up slowly and poured himself another cup. He stood beside the stove tapping with the fingers of one hand on the coffee cup. "We weren't the only ones outside at the time."

"Well we didn't see anybody else in the immediate area, Colonel," Carter spoke up finally. "It was just us and some of the other prisoners. It just has to be one of us."

Hogan, with one hand on his hip, took a drink of coffee. "Not necessarily, Carter. You may not have seen them, but I'm pretty positive there were guards around. Therefore, we have to consider one of them as well."

Newkirk sighed wearily. "Frankly I'd prefer it if it was one of the bloody guards instead of somebody we share our barracks with."

"Anything else?" Hogan asked. He suddenly felt very tired.

"Well, sir, we tried talking to von Herwarth about giving us the journal now that his wife's in London," said Kinch. "But he's scared to death with Guthrie here. Continues saying he'll only give it to you. And frankly, sir, I'm beginning to get suspicious about only wanting to give you the journal personally. Makes me wonder why that is."

Hogan shrugged and took a drink of coffee.

"So what do we do, Colonel?" asked Kinch.

Hogan sighed, then drained his coffee cup. Sitting it on the table, he looked at his team. "Kinch, I'll be in my quarters. I need to lay down for awhile. So if anybody wants me…"

"Are you all right, mon Colonel?" asked a worried LeBeau jumping to his feet and putting a hand on the Colonel's arm. "Do you need one of us to get Sergeant Wilson?"

Letting out a deep breath, Hogan looked at the little Frenchman. "No I don't need Wilson hovering over me. I'm just a bit tired." He turned and started in the direction of his quarters when he suddenly paused and turned around. His eyes met those of his radioman. "Kinch, contact Gustav and tell him tonight at 2200 hours at the regular rendezvous place. Carter, you and Newkirk go meet him and bring him back. We need to meet."

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered. Then the men watched with worried faces as their commanding officer walked inside his quarters and closed the door.

"The Colonel doesn't look well," LeBeau remarked looking at the others. "He looks so tired."

"I think we should get Wilson anyway," Carter said.

"You heard the Colonel," Kinch said. "He says he doesn't need him. I think a couple hours sleep will help a lot. I mean, he just got out of the infirmary after being seriously ill." Seeing Newkirk and LeBeau both preparing to argue, Kinch held up a hand. "But we'll keep an eye on him nonetheless. First indication there's something wrong with him, we get Wilson."

Hogan stretched out on his lower bunk with both hands clasped behind his head. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open as he stared up at the underside of the bunk above his. He hadn't even been back in the barracks twenty-four hours yet and he was facing problems. Out of everything they had talked about, he had to admit one thing Kinch had said stuck in his mind. Just why did von Herwarth insist on giving the journal only to him? A lot of possibilities ran through his mind with the top one being having him caught with the goods by the Gestapo. That would certainly seal the fate of himself and his men and would have Hochstetter jumping for joy. Hogan no longer suspected von Herwarth was working with Guthrie as he had dreamed a few days ago; the man was too terrified of the Gestapo Major. And Hogan knew nobody was that good an actor to fake that kind of terror. Right now, Hogan just wanted to clear his mind of all the negative, dark and troublesome thoughts and think of something happy, something positive. As a happy and positive time in his life came to mind, his eyes closed as sleep overtook him.

It was the happiest day of his young life in 1927. Today was the day Robert Edward Hogan would receive his pilot's wings, and his entire family was in the audience to witness the momentous occasion. And what made the occasion even more momentous was that Hogan graduated with a perfect 4.0 GPA which placed him first in his class to receive his wings. Not even his father had accomplished such a feat. And to top things off, Hogan had been promised to be introduced to the guest speaker who would address the new pilots; and Hogan was thrilled to learn the speaker would be his idol Charles Lindbergh.(1)

Hogan had greatly admired Lindbergh's ability as a pilot for several years, but never more so than after the aviator's solo flight from New York to Paris, France. Hogan read everything he could on Lindbergh. He often dreamed he was Lindbergh's co-pilot in the Spirit of St. Louis on May 20, 1927 and was flying across the Atlantic to Paris. In his mind, he often relieved the aviator during the thirty-three-and-a-half hour flight so he could rest. And he reveled in the adulation of the adoring crowds who cheered when the plane landed at Le Bourget Field. It didn't matter to Hogan that the cheers were for Lindbergh; all that mattered was that he had been allowed to participate in the historic event that captured the world.

As Hogan sat with the other graduates, he looked over his shoulder and saw his parents and siblings smiling faces looking back at him. He was smiling back when he heard Lindbergh's name being announced. Turning, he and the other pilot cadets stood and gave their guest speaker a standing ovation as did the members of the invited guests. Once everybody was seated again, Lindbergh began to speak to the cadets.

Hogan hung on his every word as the famous aviator spoke of the thrill of flying and the freedom he felt being in the sky above the ground with nothing but the clouds and the birds for company. And that flying was, to him, the greatest career a cadet could ever have, not that there was anything wrong with the other choices of the military, but that there was something about flying that bested anything else the military had to offer.

After Lindbergh's speech and a few minutes after the cadets received their pilots wings which were pinned on their shirt collars, Hogan was escorted behind the stage and introduced to Lindbergh who seemed just as pleased to meet the top graduate among the pilot cadets; but the thrill was all Hogan's as he nervously shook the aviator's hand. Lindbergh could sense the young cadet was nervous.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Cadet Hogan," Lindbergh said with a casual smile that seemed to relax the cadet.

Hogan swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's my honored pleasure to meet you, sir," he could barely get the words out. "I've followed your career since the beginning. I admire your piloting skills very much."

Lindbergh smiled. "Thank you. I understand your father is a retired one-star General?"

Hogan's eyes widened. How did he know about Hogan's father? He suddenly noticed Lindbergh chuckle.

"You're probably wondering how I know about your father, aren't you?" The aviator asked with an amused grin on his face. When Hogan didn't answer Lindbergh knew he had guessed right. "When I was informed that you graduated with the top grades as a pilot, I made it a point to find out everything I could about you and your family. Your father had an impressive record of his own, young man, and you seemed to have surpassed him. I insisted on meeting you and your family. Are they here?"

Just then both men heard footsteps behind them and looked around to see one of the officers who participated in the ceremony escorting the General and his wife along with Hogan's siblings. Hogan introduced his father who was just as thrilled to meet the famous aviator as was his son. Lindbergh then shook the hand of Hogan's mother and the others.

"You must be very proud of Cadet Hogan, General, Mrs. Hogan?"

"That we are," Hogan's father said draping an arm around his eldest son's shoulders. "I believe he'll probably surpass me in the military someday."

The entire Hogan clan spoke with Lindbergh for another fifteen minutes before the aviator announced that he had to leave because of a scheduled engagement he couldn't get out of; but that it had been a pleasure meeting all of them and that he expected to hear great things about Cadet Hogan in the future.

A smile appeared on Hogan's face as he shifted his position on the bed. Meeting Lindbergh had been the highlight of his time at West Point. He could still feel Lindbergh's presence and the touch of his hand on his shoulder.

"Colonel," a voice said gently shaking his shoulder. Why was Lindbergh shaking his shoulder and calling him Colonel?

"Colonel Hogan?"

"I'm not a Colonel," Hogan muttered still asleep. "Not yet."

"Colonel, wake up!" The pressure on his shoulder increased. Hogan's eyes opened just a crack as his head turned slightly. Kinch's face slowly came into focus.

"Kinch, everything all right?" the Colonel yawned as he slowly sat up with his feet on the floor. He ran his hands down his face. "What time is it?"

"It's 2130 hours, sir. Newkirk and Carter are preparing to leave and meet Garth."

Hearing the time, Hogan shook his head in order to clear the cobwebs. He looked at his watch. "Twenty-one-thirty hours? How long have I been asleep?"

"About nearly nine hours, sir. Schultz has already been in here to check on you for evening roll call. Wilson stopped by to check on you and we told him you were sleeping which seemed to please him. We made sure you weren't disturbed as you needed the rest."

Hogan got to his feet and grabbed his crush cap from his desk and put it on his head, pushing it back. Then with Kinch following, Hogan walked out of the small room into the common room, heading directly to the double bunk in the corner. "Kinch, keep an eye out for unwanted visitors," Hogan said as he slapped the hidden mechanism and waited for the lower bunk to rise and the ladder to drop. When they did, Hogan stepped over the bed frame and onto the ladder before climbing down. He then made his way to the changing room as Carter and Newkirk both emerged, dressed in black with wool caps and grease smeared on their faces.

"Hey, Gov'nor. Come to see us off then?" Newkirk asked with a wry grin.

"Yeah. You know I have to make sure the cubs have everything they need before they leave the den for a few hours," Hogan smirked with his thumbs hooked in the side pockets of his jacket.

"Oh we have everything we need, Colonel," Carter explained. "I mean we have our guns and…."

"Carter!" Newkirk said exasperated. "That's not what the Colonel meant."

"Oh," Carter said with a lopsided grin.

Hogan found himself chuckling. Then, his face suddenly became serious. "Look, when you meet Garth don't waste any time out there. Just come right back here. Guthrie can't be trusted now that we know he's Gestapo so don't play around. Understood?"

"Understood, sir," Newkirk said tucking his weapon into the back of his waistband.

Carter looked up at his commanding officer with concern. "Colonel, you feeling okay now? I mean, you slept an awful long time."

Hogan appreciated the young Sergeant's concern. "Yes, Carter, I'm fine. I was just tired being my first day back in the barracks. Nothing to worry about."

Carter smiled. "Okay. If you say so, Colonel." The three men walked to the ladder leading to the tree stump.

"Good luck," Hogan said as Newkirk, followed by Carter, climbed up the ladder. He sighed wearily knowing he wasn't going to get anymore sleep tonight.

(1) Charles Lindbergh, by order of then-President Coolidge, asked that he return to America from Paris to receive the Distinguished Flying Cross. The Navy dispatched a destroyer to France to pick up Lindbergh and transport him back across the Atlantic and a reception unprecedented in our history. New York City honored him with the largest ticker tape parade ever.